He gave himself a mental shake. “The potential consequences for Grace—”
“Because Mattie Young hid in your garden shed? People aren’t that shallow, Ellis, and we still don’t have Mattie’s side of the story.”
Despite her conciliatory words, Abigail’s expression told him she didn’t need Mattie’s side of the story. “Go ahead,” he said, motioning for her to move past him.
She shook her head. “You first.”
“What? Oh.” He inhaled through his nose, irritated now. “You want to be the last one out. You don’t want to risk that I might tamper with evidence.”
She didn’t answer.
Ellis walked out into the beautiful evening air and stood next to Owen. “Abigail won’t care who she catches in the cross fire,” he said, more to himself than to the man next to him. “She never has.”
“She cares. She just can’t let it stop her.”
“How can you be so calm?”
Never one to overreact, Owen gave him a wry smile. “I don’t know about you, Ellis, but I’m having a hard time thinking anyone who’d crawl out of a chicken door is all that dangerous.”
Ellis tried to return the smile and match his neighbor’s sense of humor, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have Owen’s knack for distancing himself from a difficult situation in order to maintain his composure. Owen had learned to thrive in a crisis. Ellis was different. He did what he had to do, but he didn’t look for adrenaline highs. He preferred a quiet life. He didn’t need to get out there like Grace and subject himself to the scrutiny of a background check, political gamesmanship, having his every decision examined and politicized. Nor did he need to put his life on the line the way Owen did.
And Abigail.
She was complicated, and yet, right now, her mission was simple and straightforward. Find Mattie. Figure out if he was Chris’s killer.
But as he used his walking stick to make his way back across the yard, all Ellis could think was that his own life was spinning out of control. It had been for a long time. He’d taken too long to see what was happening. Now he was beginning to realize that the only way to stop it—to bring his life back into balance—was to be bold.
He wasn’t like Abigail and Owen, he thought. Boldness and courage weren’t in his nature.
“You’re a behind the scenes type, Ellis,” Jason had told him a thousand times. “You get other people to do what needs to be done.”
He’d meant it as a compliment.
Ellis glanced back at the shed, the door swung wide open. Where are you, Mattie? What have you done?
Spinning, spinning.
Calming himself, Ellis placed a palm on his rapidly beating heart and took a deep breath. He hated being thrust in the limelight, but now he had no choice. The police would arrive in droves. They’d have search teams, dogs—who knew what.
Out of control.
It wasn’t his brother or his niece who needed his counsel this time.
This time, it was his turn to listen to his own good advice.
Evening fog rolled in over the island, unexpected, impenetrable, as if Mattie Young had conjured it up himself, willed it to cover his tracks and slow the search for him.
As he took his plate to the sink in his uncle’s perfect kitchen, Linc realized he was rooting for Mattie, and not just because of the blackmail and how terrified he was to have anyone find out about it.
He was rooting for Mattie because the guy was such a loser, and everyone was against him. Everyone was after him. Linc had seen cops go off through the gate, into the woods, with a German shepherd the size of a tiger.
The stupid bastard didn’t stand a chance.
Maybe he’d take the four grand and start fresh. Maybe he’d hit bottom this time, finally, and blackmailing Linc over something he’d done at thirteen would turn him around.
Attacking Abigail. Hiding in a garden shed. Crawling out of a chicken door.
He’d see what a creep he was and decide he wanted a different life for himself.
And, Linc realized, he was rooting for Mattie because of his father’s attitude.
The great Jason Cooper, who’d been born to privilege, who’d never had to fight alcoholism—who’d never lost a friend to murder.
Linc knew his father had never cared about Chris Browning. That his murder remained unsolved and Chris’s widow stayed on the case, relentless, not giving a damn who she pissed off, was just an annoyance to him.